


Scuttlebutt

by akirerae (rerae)



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Drunkenness, Gen, I Tried, Python is a little shit and Silque is an actual saint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rerae/pseuds/akirerae
Summary: He stumbles, no, crashes into her tent. If it weren't so concerning, she would be amused by how his limbs seemed to stop working in tandem with one another.





	Scuttlebutt

**Author's Note:**

> I've read a few Python and Silque fics and I realized I never read one where they gossip about things, which is pretty surprising given what happens in their respective supports. This isn't quite what I had in mind, but it's close enough, I guess. ^^""

He stumbles, no, _crashes_ into her tent. If it weren't so concerning, she would be amused by how his limbs seemed to stop working in tandem with one another, tripping over themselves and flailing every which way. She drops what she's doing and rushes up to him, placing her hands on his chest in an attempt to steady him. The initial impact has her stumbling, but she catches her footing quickly enough.  
  
Her nose crinkles in distaste at the stench that invades it. It's a mixture of bile and something else that is just as bitter.  
  
This man, when he gathers enough of his wits, has the gall to smile lopsidedly at her through hooded eyes. He brings up a hand to wiggle his fingers in greeting.  
  
"Hiya."  
  
_By the Mother_ -  
  
She turns her head to avoid the full onslaught of the smell. "Hello, Python."  
  
He rests his head upon her own with something that's between a giggle and a hiccup, and she resists the sudden urge to let him fall where he stands. Instead, she makes the slow trek to the nearest cot. When he decides to speak again, his words are so slurred, she can barely understand a word he says.  
  
"So I... ran inta this." He decides then to lose his footing and Silque has to steady him to keep them both from toppling to the floor. " _Brute_. Thought he could outdrink ol' Py. In... Ya know. Place where ya..." Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him wave his hand a few times. "...drink. Hah." Another chuckle. "Showed _him_."  
  
"Ah, I'm... sure you must be very pleased with yourself."  
  
As she helps him settle onto one of the cots, she isn't surprised to find that his face is as smug as his voice.  
  
"Heh. Sure am."  
  
She brushes off her dress and tries to sound more chiding, rather than amused. Only Mila knows, but she thinks she pulled of a tone that's a decent mixture of both.  
  
"You do know that we march tomorrow, don't you?"  
  
He slides a hand down his face and breathes harshly through his nose. "Crap. Yeah, I know." He heaves another sigh. "Damn. Leave it to the mention of... _work_ to get me all sobered up."  
  
She raises a brow at him and can't shake the sneaking suspicion that his drunkenness isn't quite what it seems to be. "So is it safe to assume that you _don't_ need a tonic for your impending hangover?"  
  
He makes a face at her. "Of course, I still need it. Just cuz I'm slightly less drunk _now_ , doesn't mean I want an army of Forsyths yammering inside my head in the morning. One s'bad enough."  
  
An army of Sir Forsyth, is it? She can't help but giggle at the thought.  
  
"Alright, I'll see if I have anything left." She places a bucket at his feet before she goes to look through her supplies. "You do realized that you could have avoided drinking altogether, don't you?"  
  
She looks back in time to see him rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah... But like _m_ 'gonna pass on-"  
  
He lurches forward and takes a moment to retch into the bucket. When he's finished, he straightens and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Okay, _fine_. Coulda... done without the drinking contest. _But_ it was for a good cause."  
  
Silque finds what she's looking for in one of the crates and makes her way back to her patient. "Oh? And what cause would that be?"  
  
And there it is, that smug grin again. "Free booze." He pushes the bucket aside with his foot and holds out his hand for the tonic. "Lucky me, the competition was a lightweight."  
  
She places the vial into the palm of his hand with a wry smile. "And by lightweight, am I to assume that we are going by your standards?"  
  
"Yep." He corks open the vial and downs the tonic in one gulp. "Sure, it took a bit longer than I thought for him to go down, but he crashed."  
  
"How very impressive." She retrieves the vial from him and turns around to finish her packing. "I suppose you'd wish to spend the night here?"  
  
" _Gods_ , yes. I'd rather face the nagging later rather than sooner."  
  
"So I figured," she says with a laugh, "You're free to rest here for as long as you need to, but nothing past."  
  
She hears a soft thud, indicating that he has laid onto the cot. "Alright, alright. _Yeesh_. You're no better than Lukas or Forsyth."  
  
"Well, Mila knows that they need all the help they can receive to keep you out of trouble."  
  
He snorts a laugh. "You mean more trouble?"  
  
"I was trying to be courteous but if you must put it that way, I suppose so." She takes a moment's rest in packing up the spare sheets to glance over her shoulder. "Since you are far more lucid than I thought you would be, would you mind taking out that bucket for me? I don't wish for the smell to permeate through the tent."  
  
He bends over the side of the bed and takes a quick waft of the bucket, then immediately turns his head to gag. "Yes, Ma'am."  
  
"Thank you, Python."  
  
"Mhm." He swings his legs over the side of the cot and picks up the bucket before standing. "And for the record, I'm lucid because of that tonic of yours. Whatcha put in that stuff anyway?"  
  
She turns to face him in full, arms crossed and a wry smile gracing her lips. "Something _quite_ effective. After all, I have plenty a chance to practice."  
  
Her latent jibe does not go unnoticed, judging by his playful wince. " _Ouch_. Okay, bucket. Got it."  
  
When he leaves the tent, Silque shakes her head fondly and turns her attention back to her work. However, her reprieve does not last for very long. There's the sound of the tent flap and not soon after, his head peeks out from behind it.  
  
"Hey, before I forget." His grin is wide and speaks of nothing good. "Rumor has it that you've been lookin' a gossip buddy. I love me some juicy scuttlebutt myself _so_ -"  
  
Silque tries to quell the panic that is rapidly rising from her chest. "The _bucket_ , Python."  
  
While she acknowledges that, yes, there could be worse rumors regarding her person flitting about, she does not particularly enjoy being put in such a predicament. Especially not by Python.  
  
The man dawns on a pout that is rather ill fitting for one his age. "Aw, come _on_. It'll be to our mutual benefit!"  
  
Mila give her strength, of course he is insistent on the matter.  
  
"While your offer is..." She finds herself gnawing on her bottom lip and immediately chides herself to stop. "...generous, I must decline."  
  
He quirks a brow at her. "What? So you'd rather sit around all day giggling over sweets with Lukas?" He glances to one side and lets out a snort. "Bo-ring."  
  
Thank the Mother, an opportunity to change the subject.  
  
"Not everyone has your penchant for bitter things, Python." She fights the urge to indulge the man with a smile and returns her attention to the linens. "And I quite enjoy my talks with Lukas, thank you."  
  
"Hey, didn't say you wouldn't. I enjoy talking with the ol' stud myself." A pause. "Anyway, my offer still stands."  
  
She suppresses the urge to sigh. Of course it is. "That's... very thoughtful of you. I will keep it in mind."  
  
"That's all I ask."  
  
He falls silent and, for a moment, she allows herself to believe that this current conversation has run its course. Of course, this was not the case.  
  
She glances over her shoulder to see that his smile has taken a devious turn, not unlike the one a child gets when they believe that they are being clever. "Hey, speaking of Lukas... betcha didn't know he has a special lady friend."  
  
Mila have mercy.  
  
She exhales sharply through her nose and clings to the sheet in her hands in an attempt to ground herself.  
  
_Don't, don't_ -  
  
"...He does?"

**Author's Note:**

> (I apologize if my portrayal of a drunken person is way off.)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos, comments, and bookmarks are always apprechiated~


End file.
